


sunshine and happiness

by Sparrows



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, look it's just fluff okay, there's literally no plot besides vex and percy being cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 07:43:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7092664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparrows/pseuds/Sparrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vex drags Percy out of his workshop so that he'll just sit down and relax, for once in his life. There's pretty much no plot besides that, I just really wanted to write something cute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sunshine and happiness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cinderfell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderfell/gifts).



> Written for [cassiederolo's](http://cassiederolo.tumblr.com/) birthday! Go say happy birthday. Or, if you're reading this, Kaity, happy birthday!

Vex likes watching Percy work.

Part of it, she thinks, is the quiet intensity of it, the way he can so easily block out the world around him. His focus narrows until it seems like the only thing that exists in all Tal'dorei is the metal on his anvil or the tools in his hands. His expression when he's working reminds Vex of the expression he wears in battle, glaring angrily down the barrel of Bad News at whatever horrid beastie threatens their little family today. It's that same single-minded determination, that stubbornness in the face of difficulty.

There are, ah, _physical_ aspects to enjoy as well. Percy's quite handsome, after all - Vex would be lying if she said otherwise - and it's a delight to see him out of his usual finery, wearing casual clothing - right now that's a plain shirt, apron, thick blacksmith's gloves. His sleeves are rolled to the elbows, the muscles in his forearms tensing and relaxing in turn as he works. Parts of his shirt are dark with sweat and she imagines he must be in a similar state under the leather and glass of his mask.

Anyway. She can enjoy both the way he concentrates on beating metal into shape and the way his muscles flex as he does it. She's mature like that.

But today Percy's irritated, growling under his breath in a way that reminds Vex uncomfortably of curling smoke and dark shapes. She suspects he will never really be free of Orthax, even though the shadow demon is long-dead, even though his List was destroyed not long after the demon itself. She's certain it still haunts him.

Whatever he's working on today (he'd fumbled for words to explain it when she'd asked earlier and had simply settled on a vague grimace and the words "wait and see") isn't coming together as he'd hoped, and as time goes by Vex can tell he's growing frustrated. Normally they'd be talking, Percy filling the air with absentminded chatter, but in his annoyance Percy just mutters under his breath. Eventually the gunslinger snarls and picks up the contraption - Vex glimpses gears and wires nestled in a metal shell, but doesn't know enough to make a guess beyond that - before twisting around and flinging it hard against the wall. Vex yelps in surprise and ducks, feeling the projectile pass overhead.

It would have struck her full in the face, had she not moved, and the realisation of this dawns on them both as the cacophony of crashing metal and tinkling of gears settles into silence.

" _Vex'ahlia!_ " Percy splutters, shoving his mask up off his face. There's a sort of wide-eyed horror in his expression when he stumbles towards her, stripping off his powder-streaked gloves and discarding them as he goes. "I'm - I'm _so_ sorry, I forgot you were there," he says.

Vex slips from her seat and crouches down, scooping the broken pieces of metal into her hands gently. They're warm to the touch, the gears shattered and the shell warped and dented where it slammed into the wall. She places the pieces onto the table; maybe Percy can make use of them later for something. See? She can be thoughtful.

"Come here," she murmurs to him, sidestepping the table and stepping towards him. She reaches out with one hand and, perhaps without even thinking about it, Percy goes to her. He leans down just a touch to help her reach his face, as has become habit, and Vex fits her palm against the warm, stubbled line of his jaw. Her thumb smooths along his cheekbone and Percy leans into the touch, his breath a slow and steady warmth against her bare wrist. With his mask pushed back like this Vex can see his eyes fall shut, the tension vanishing from his shoulders even as she steps into his space. He lifts one hand to slot it over her own; his palm is heavy over the back of her knuckles, the skin just a little rough to the touch.

There is something in him, Vex'ahlia thinks, that will always long for this. This touch, this closeness, this trust. It makes her heart _ache_ to know how much faith he has in her that he would allow her so close; she still remembers the skittish, haunted man Vox Machina had pulled out of a festering dungeon those few short years ago, how he'd flinched at every sudden movement - and how sometimes, on his worst days, he still _does_. This isn't one of those days, but it's a close thing, and a slight frown crosses Vex's lips as she looks at him.

"Percival," she says in a voice as gentle as her touch, "when was the last time you took a break?"

He pauses, his eyes opening as his brows furrow. That he hesitated at _all_ is answer enough for Vex; when he wets his lips uncertainly and murmurs "I can't remember" against the skin of her wrist the ache in her chest only grows worse.

Vex pulls her hand away from Percy's face and places it on his shoulder. "Come with me, then," she says, smiling.

 

* * *

 

 

Ten minutes later they are outside in the daylight. Keyleth's garden is in full bloom, the scent of pollen thick in the air - she has flowers from all over the continent (and a few from further afield) huddled together in this sun-soaked square of nature, a feat of druidic talent persuading hardy mountain flowers to bloom alongside the fragile, delicate blossoms found only in the fey-touched lands near Syngorn. It's no later than maybe mid-afternoon, the warm air meaning neither of them needed to grab a cloak before they came out, though Vex did make sure to take her bow and a quiver full of plain training arrows.

Trinket plods alongside Vex on her other side, snuffling and grunting almost conversationally as they go. Vex replies, sometimes; Percy often wonders if the bond between the ranger and her companion is strong enough that she _actually_ understands him, or if she's merely pretending. It reminds him of dog owners baby-talking their pets and the comparison makes him smile.

Eventually they come to Vex's archery range. It's not as grand as the name makes it sound: with Vex and Percy as the only long-range fighters in Vox Machina and few of them in the Keep's staff either, there's not really much call for anything complicated. Still, there are targets set up at the other end of a staked-off strip of courtyard, and Vex stands at one end of it, the bow in her hand already strung and her quiver slung low across the small of her back.

"You're going to sit there," Vex says, pointing an arrow at the base of a nearby tree, "and you're going to relax. Enjoy the sunshine. It's a _lovely_ day, darling, and I'd hate for you to spend all of it indoors getting angry." With that she turns around, nocks the arrow, and takes her first shot. The soft _thwip-thunk_ of the arrow flying through the air and landing in the target - nearly a bullseye, Percy notes absently - is actually quite relaxing, once it's removed from the usual context of fighting for one's life.

Trinket grumbles when Percy leans against him, roused from sleep for a moment. He quiets again when Percy gives him a good-natured scratch between the ears and a brief pat. He even lifts his head and licks the side of Percy's hand before settling his head back down and giving what must be an exaggerated snore. Percy holds a certain kind of affection for Trinket, unlike certain small, purple-clad members of Vox Machina; certainly he doesn't quite see the bear as a cherished family member the way Vex does, but there is affection there nonetheless. And surely, given how Trinket had quite happily torn Orthax's head from its shoulders, that affection is returned.

With Trinket successfully appeased - it's fortunate that Trinket's in a good mood, Percy thinks to himself, because if he'd been in a bad mood then he probably wouldn't have accepted being used as a pillow - Percy stretches his legs out in front of him and lets his hands rest over his stomach, long fingers laced together. He watches Vex steadily plunk away at the target, her hands settling into a natural rhythm of draw-aim-fire-draw-aim-fire. Every so often she has to stop and retrieve her arrows, the muscles in her arms and back straining a little as she tugs them out of the target.

Vex really is beautiful. The sunlight catches in her hair, gilding the bluish-black with strands of gold. She's not wearing her usual feathers today and her braid is a little loose, at risk of coming undone. There's a little smile twisting at the corner of her mouth, one that broadens when she lands a good hit on the target. Percy enjoys seeing that smile, whether it's directed at him (okay, even more when it's him) or anyone else. He finds himself watching her more and more often, these days, and it takes Percy a moment to keep his cheeks from turning pink.

And she was right after all - he _is_ relaxing, all the tension wound tight in his muscles releasing slowly as he soaks up the sunlight. He hadn't been lying, back in the workshop, when he'd told her he couldn't remember the last time he'd taken a break. There had always been more to do, more to create, even when there  _hadn't_ been a dark voice whispering vengeance in the back of his mind. But he won't allow such thoughts to spoil this.

It occurs to Percy that he hasn't really been able to just sit down and enjoy a nice day like this for a very long time. He dozes gently for a while, warmed by the sun, listening to Vex hum a vaguely familiar tune. After a while - he's not sure how long, having allowed himself to lose track of time - the sound of arrow impacts stop and he cracks open one eye to find Vex sitting down on the grass beside him. She leans over and places a soft kiss against his cheek. "Shh," she murmurs, pillowing her head against his shoulder and lacing their fingers together. "Just rest, sweetheart."

So he does. And when he dreams, they are dreams filled with golden sunlight and dark hair.


End file.
